


The Stage of Power

by blueticked, Interjection, Leopardmask



Series: The World of Power [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Economics, Gen, Illegal Activities, Modern Era, NHO, Politics, Technology, concorp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueticked/pseuds/blueticked, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interjection/pseuds/Interjection, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leopardmask/pseuds/Leopardmask
Summary: The New Hermit Order's control over Hermiton was near absolute. With agents and allies in every facet of the city, they had one of the most powerful, wealthy places in the world under their command. Doc knew for certain that everything would go exactly as he planned.ConCorp was the only thing standing in their way, the force that could topple all his careful work with their own operations.Doc would make absolutely sure they didn't.
Relationships: Etho & Steffen Mossner | Docm77
Series: The World of Power [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071071
Comments: 16
Kudos: 41





	The Stage of Power

_The 13th. Public library of Hermiton, 12 a.m. sharp. We’ll discuss a proposal. I will be there personally, so don’t be late._

_\- ConCorp CEO_

_\------------------_

Doc frowned at the… well, _condescension_ that radiated from the words, though he doubted someone that used to authority had even noticed.

“They actually agreed to an in-person meeting?” Etho asked, surprise clear.

“Eyes on the road, Etho,” Doc said in response. “We’re nearly there - the last thing we need is police attention because you got into an accident a minute from our destination.”

“When have I ever failed you?” came the amused reply, before Etho’s expression shifted into something much more serious - and hesitant.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? Just because we run the world’s most powerful mafia-”

“-organization,” Doc grumbled. “The New Hermit Order is not a mafia.”

“Right, so just because we have an organized system for obtaining illegal resources and money, with dirty work outsourced to people lower than us in an established hierarchy, doesn’t mean we should just walk into a meeting with the most powerful company in the world. This is _ConCorp_ we’re dealing with, Doc.”

Etho took a left turn and a parking lot came into view, bordering a plaza of a dozen shops. It was near the center of the city, half a kilometer away from the city hall and central police station - a bold spot for criminal conduct.

The New Hermit Order was rather well known for bold moves - and for getting away with them.

Doc adjusted his dark grey jacket and black khaki pants - a perfect blend of casual and forgettable, and designed for the chilly autumn weather. Etho was in similar attire, though fingerless gloves covered the hands gripping the steering wheel.

“We’re the most powerful force in this city, Etho,” Doc growled, sparks surging through his fingers in agreement. 

Etho gave him an appraising look. Doc frowned, dismissing the electricity as he checked his clothes for all his possessions - wallet, phone, gun, knives, black leather journal, writing utensils, and bombs of tear gas and smoke, making sure they were all tucked away in their respective pockets, and ensuring Etho did the same before they climbed out the car.

“But ConCorp has a grip in nearly every corner of the world,” Etho said, lowering his voice with practised casualness as they began walking. “You need to be careful, if we’re negotiating. Especially since we know so little about its leadership.” 

Their particular destination was, to the public, a large bookstore called “Bookie Eyes” known for its rather aggressive, if impressively executed marketing tactics. It was the most profitable bookstore in Hermiton - in fact, perhaps even the most profitable in the nation, meaning no one would notice a few thousand extra dollars of income each month unless they were paying very, very close attention to the ledgers.

The cashier greeted them with a nod, then gestured with a tilt of her head towards the very back of the store.

“We know they’re willing to risk a personal meeting with me,” Doc breathed quietly as they approached a door labeled “Employees Only.” 

Pushing the door open revealed the warehouse of the store: wooden crates full of books, stacked so high most were secured by bands of bright nylon. Some of the crates featured other things, not all of which the government would approve of.

“That means whoever the CEO is, they’re confident their power is enough to save them in case things go wrong. Or, more likely, they have someone for that purpose.” Doc’s voice was much louder now. The storage room was soundproof, with no electricity save for ceiling lights - confirmed by a cursory check of his powers. “But we have the same advantage, and much more.”

“Do they even have powers?” Etho frowned. “It’s not likely the case, you know.”

Doc shrugged, striding over to what was, by all appearances, a calendar secured to the wall by large copper staples.

It was a secret door, in fact, one they’d used many times, one that Doc designed personally - and so, instead of bothering with the hidden control panel or lengthy password, he simply spread his fingers across the copper staples.

The electric currents in the walls flowed and adjusted just the way he wanted to, familiar and oddly comforting. They flitted away from their usual path of least resistance and through tiny gaps of air instead, rerouting the entire map of energy. 

A tiny _click_ \- and a few feet away, panels of marble flooring began to slide back, revealing a polished black staircase. Etho caught up to him, and together they descended into the secret basement below.

Keralis wasn’t waiting for them in the secret basement, to Doc’s disappointment. Instead, a briefcase sat on the table, its scratched and stained appearance yet another ruse to subvert public and police expectation. A crinkled note was laid on top in Keralis’ signature, loopy handwriting, listing the poisons and books they had ordered.

Doc grabbed the briefcase, shoved the note into Etho’s hands, and turned towards the door.

“Doc, you haven’t answered my questions. How are you planning on going about this?” Etho asked. He tugged on Doc’s shoulder and refused to let go, a wire that held him to the questions Doc was, quite frankly, too frustrated to think about for the day. “There’s so much to consider - superpowers, security, who should go with you, whether to go at all-”

“I’m going,” Doc said. “I highly doubt ConCorp will try to kill me outright - it’s pretty easy to figure out we have a line of succession in place, so it would be too high risk and not enough reward anyway.”

“You never know what powers they might have,” Etho countered. “What if they bring someone who’s a mindreader, or can brainwash people?”

“All the world’s mindreaders are either living in the middle of vast wilderness with no other humans, or locked up in mental asylums,” Doc said flatly. “And I think we would know about someone with brainwashing powers. We have access to all the databases, after all, and governments will have snatched them all up.”

“ConCorp values their media subsidiaries a lot,” Etho pointed out. “I highly doubt they’ll let a competitor overtake the Hermiton Broadcast, especially in home territory.”

“Just because ConCorp has their headquarters in Hermiton too, doesn’t mean they have a bigger advantage,” Doc said. “Besides, lots of other companies and organizations have their bases in this city.”

“You’re missing the point, Doc. Whatever this proposal is, I doubt you’ll like it very much. And I doubt they'd like whatever you want, either. If we want to compete in the news media scene of Hermiton, we’ll probably have to resort to other tactics.”

“We could always put out a few bribes if we need to,” Doc frowned. “Especially once we get our preferred candidates in parliament seats.”

“I’ll go with you,” Etho sighed. “If things go wrong, I can teleport for backup. And, more importantly-” he fixed Doc with an almost reprimanding look. “-I’m not sure I trust you to not say something stupid, walking into a meeting with ConCorp all alone.”

“Fine,” Doc said, shrugging. He wasn’t stupid, after all - it _would_ be rather foolish to walk into a meeting without some back up, even if said meeting took place on the agreed neutral ground that was the library. 

“And,” Etho muttered. “If we play this right, we might finally be able to answer some of our previous questions, like who exactly this mysterious CEO is.”

“Oh? What do you have in mind?” Doc glanced at the suitcase, a few ideas of his own beginning to form.

“Something small and simple,” Etho said. “How about a transmitter on the walls? I’ll pop in-" Etho snapped his fingers for added effect, "-the day before to add it, and see if it gets a reaction during the meeting.”

“Whether they remove it before the meeting or during, or not at all, that still doesn’t tell us much,” Doc said, beginning to pace.

“Again, Doc, I can’t stress this to you enough. It’s _ConCorp_. Technology is their game.”

“It’s our game too,” Doc said. “And we can beat them at it.”

“Let’s finalize things when we get back to Headquarters,” Etho sighed. “We still have 7 more locations to check, so around 60 dummy locations to throw the police off. You know, since you insist on coming with me this time, for some reason.”

Doc rolled his eyes, and made for the staircase back up, leaving Etho to trail behind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Etho - he trusted his advisor with his life, in fact - but there was something reassuring about seeing all his plans and operations fully functional, working just as they were supposed to be. Confirmation of the control the New Hermit Order had in every facet of Hermiton, seen with his own eyes, and easing a nagging doubt that always loomed at the back of his mind.

“Let’s just hurry up,” Doc said. “The sooner we get this done the better, especially since they decided to have it in two days.”

* * *

“Going ahead of us? How rude.” 

The voice, strangely warped and clearly foreign, nonetheless held enough acidity to melt one of Etho’s blades. 

_Interesting._

That wasn’t the way one generally started business negotiations. But there were two people who had met him and Etho in the library center - was this something the CEO of ConCorp would say?

“You should be honored,” Doc retorted, not sparing a glance back. He and Etho continued their strides methodically, his advisor throwing him a cautioning look. Shelves of color seemed to flash by in a blur, the library unusually deserted for such a central, hallmark figure of the city. “Few ever enjoy the chance at a private meeting with the boss himself.”

“Hmm. Honored, you say?” The other voice mused. There was a skeptical quality to the tone that made Doc narrow his eyes.

“Precisely,” he answered, finally stopping at a door of dark, polished wood, glossy to the very last detail. “Study Room #1” was engraved at eye level, the letters dark and words misleading. As he twisted the handle, Doc did a cursory check, feeling for any electrical signals.

Nothing. 

He opened the door, and stepped inside.

The room was painted white from ceiling to floor - such a pure, mind-bending white that if it weren’t for the singular window that overlooked the parking lot, and the oaken tables and chairs anchored squarely in the middle, Doc might have thought the color stretched out into infinity.

He strode over and seated himself on a chair, expression a careful canvas of indifference. Etho took the chair next to him, throwing the ConCorp representatives his signature, disarming smile, always striding the line of friendly and dangerous.

The other two people followed. They were both dressed as professionally as Doc and Etho were, blue suits on white backgrounds. One a sharp, familiar aqua; the other, a pale, cloudy imitation that faded into the white behind him.

“As I said,” Doc began as the two also settled themselves into the seats, “ _honored._ From both sides, of course.” He gave them a small, measured grin, fingertips tapping the table once, twice - still no electricity. Doc broadened his senses to the walls and ceiling - to his mild surprise, the only bug present was the one Etho had implemented the day before.

As far as he could tell, anyway.

That thought made Doc’s fingers twitch, and his mind darken, but he brushed it aside just as quickly.

“I understand your information on our names are… _lacking_ ,” the one in the bold aqua suit began, in an accented voice. Black hair framed amber eyes, behind a pair of golden-lensed glasses. Doc raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, an undercurrent of surprise running through him as well. 

_He’s the CEO?_

“I suppose,” he drawled in response. “That knowing some names would be… _practical_.”

“You may call me ConCorp CEO,” was the reply. “Or Verify, if you prefer less syllables. And he-” Verify nodded at his escort, a bearded man with eyes as dark as black holes. “He is simply here to keep me company.”

“Right, _ConCorp CEO_ ,” Doc said. “You may call me New Hermit Order CEO. Or NHO boss, if syllables aren’t up your alley.”

“Noted, mafia boss,” ConCorp’s leader said in an almost leisurely tone. “We’re very honored to be here, of course.”

A surge of irritation rushed through Doc, but he refrained himself from correcting the offence. Though his fingers itched with sparking currents, as Etho would say, this was a battle he could afford to lose. He stopped his eyes from straying, keeping them trained, unblinkingly, on ConCorp’s leadership.

“Enough that you’ll stop sabotaging our reporters?” Doc asked instead. “How are those poor souls supposed to feed their families, if your agents keep destroying their files?”

“What files?” Verify asked, somehow managing to sound both genuine and condescending at the same time. 

“You know what files,” Doc said, biting back a snarling tone. Good gods, this was why he couldn’t _stand_ negotiations. But he also couldn’t trust anyone else with a meeting so important.

“We have absolutely no idea,” Verify said lightly. “Our only interaction with your… _operation_ has been the report we filed to the government for money laundering and knowingly housing fugitives.”

A storm of anger began brewing in Doc, and he found himself even more furious at how much Verify was getting under his skin already. 

“Fugitives?” Etho echoed, leaning forward. “Know that we would never engage in such foul play, ConCorp. You’re very much mistaken.”

Doc allowed himself a moment of respite as Etho spoke, smothering the flames inside him and maintaining his outwardly neutral expression.

He had thought the crimes wouldn’t get noticed - and though he loathed to admit it, perhaps adding directly illegal ties to the company was pushing their luck a bit too far.

Though there was the question of _how_ they knew, which left an awful, bitter taste in Doc’s mouth that clawed deeper than anything else Verify had said so far. But he refused to move his gaze.

“Though speaking of foul play,” Verify’s escort said, narrowing his eyes. “There’s a bit of business to take care of.” Dark eyes tilted upwards, to a corner of the room above.

 _Score_. 

Etho’s eyes flitted to meet his for just a moment, enough for Doc to see the smirk they held.

 _So Verify’s escort_ is _a bodyguard_ , Doc thought. _What is his power?_

_For that matter, what is Verify’s power, if he’s so confident?_

It was still a troubled, lingering thread in his mind, the uncertainty yet another element to his frustration, but for now Doc allowed himself a congratulatory inner smile. 

“Oh?” he said, letting a hint of confusion slip through. “Do explain.”

Verify’s bodyguard stood up and moved to the bug, patting the area lightly a few times before peeling away the white tape. 

_Interesting,_ Doc thought. _So he doesn’t know the exact location? Or is this a ruse?_

“Rather conspicuous for the mafia,” the escort said as he slid it on the table, the tiny lights still blinking haphazardly. 

Doc bristled, narrowing his eyes, a shock flitting through his body.

“What are you saying?” Etho asked, giving Doc a warning look.

“I see the marks of NHO technology on this,” Verify’s bodyguard mused. “But then, why would you want to bug a meeting you’re part of?”

“It’s not from us,” Doc said flatly. “We have so much more sophisticated ways of recording conversation, as both of you would know.”

“Funny,” Verify said. “I could have sworn your power would have easily allowed you to sense something like this. Or did I hallucinate all those articles?”

“Surely you should know, as a company focused on profit, how reliable the information on those speculation columns are?” Doc countered. “Though I suppose you could be forgiven for the mistake,” he added, seemingly as an afterthought. “After all, it’s not uncommon for company leaders to be detached from the realities of how their products are made and marketed.”

“Oh, I assure you, I am well aware,” Verify said, leaning back. “But let’s entertain the idea that our sources are wrong. Even so, there is the matter of perception.” Verify smiled. “And everyone in Hermiton knows that your little news company can’t overtake the Hermiton Broadcast, especially not with a ridiculous name like ‘The Jungle Vine.’”

“More creative than ‘Hermiton Broadcast,’” Doc forced himself into a more neutral tone just in time, as Etho tapped his hand in warning, though he nearly snapped the words with very clear aggression. 

“Yet, we’re the dominant news source for all of Hermiton,” Verify said. “For very clear reasons.”

Those _reasons_ made Doc quake internally with rage, the idea of their drones and cameras scattered all across Hermiton, a thousand eyes that reported directly to ConCorp, and that maybe, _just maybe_ , Doc hadn’t found and burned all the ones in his headquarters-

 _Calm down,_ Doc could practically hear Etho beg, side-eyeing his advisor. 

“Yet, we’re having this meeting,” Doc countered, taking the advice. “Scared we’ll buy up your broadcast one day?”

“As if,” ConCorp’s boss chuckled. “We’re here to save you from the humiliation of bankruptcy, if you so choose. Whatever it is you want to tell the public… _we_ can do it. Provided we approve of the contents, of course. That’s our proposition for today.”

“You think you can just _buy_ our company?” Doc laughed. The thought seemed so absurd, though Doc knew it made much more sense to ConCorp. 

Ha. _To ConCorp_. As if ConCorp had even a single current of logic flowing through its smug, ridiculous offer.

His mind filled with derision at the idea, and Doc couldn’t help but let it spill into his tone.

“Absolutely _never_ ,” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “Your board of directors must have been drunk when they came up with the idea, or was it all _your_ spectacular reasoning?”

Verify’s eyes narrowed near imperceptibly, and Doc recognized that look all too well - like he had just found blackmail material on the mayor and was processing how to record it.

_What is he thinking? What happened?_

Frustration - and perhaps _fear_ as well - coursed through him once again, not knowing, not having the hand of surprise at the ready, not having the clear upper hand - but still, Doc forced himself to stay still.

“Well,” Verify said. “The other option is that the police force shows up to make some arrests soon, and the company gets shut down for all the illegal business it’s been conducting. I can imagine the headline already - ‘news company ‘The Jungle Vine’ ended by Hermiton government for mafia connections, as uncovered by Hermiton Broadcast reporters.’”

“You think we can’t convince the government to turn their little heads around?” Doc snorted derisively, a note of anger taking hold in his voice. “The NHO has many strings and many puppets, _ConCorp_ , and more influence over the government than you. _Our_ proposition is that you don’t compete with The Jungle Vine’s rise, and we don’t get the Hermiton government to tax you out of business.”

“You think they'll listen to a mafia playboy, over the wealthiest company on Earth?” Verify raised an eyebrow, making Doc’s fingers _itch._ “Seriously?”

“The _New Hermit Order_ ,” Doc hissed, feeling a sudden fire set alight in his blood, “is an organization for optimizing the transportation of goods and people from the producer to the customer. It is _Not. A. Mafia.”_

Verify raised an eyebrow skeptically, and the fury that had been brewing inside Doc seemed to roar.

“You smuggle criminals, force businesses, ships, and planes to pay a tax fee that all goes to you, and routinely threaten them with violence if they don’t comply,” Verify shrugged. “The most widely used dictionary in Hermiton, the Wordwide-Cherry Dictionary, defines mafia as ‘a criminal or-’”

 _“Shut up!”_ Doc snapped, slamming a hand on the table, the force so hard it visibly rattled, as though trembling from the might of the blow, and every fiber of his being was begging to lunge over and claw that self-satisfied smirk off his face. The _nerve_ of ConCorp, of Verify, for assuming, for being so calm and condescending and pretending they were so much better and had the upper hand-

“We control the shipping docks, we control the roads, we control the airports,” Etho said calmly. “We can shut down the economy of Hermiton in an instant, if we so wish.”

Doc sucked in a deep breath, trying to quell his raging fury, but he couldn’t, because _no one_ dared speak to him with such ignorance and disregard.

“So? We can shut down the economy of the world,” Verify yawned. “All the technology that runs the stock exchanges, down in an instant. And no doubt all the world's leaders will be pushing to get rid of you then.”

“Not before Hermiton falls under our control,” Doc snarled. “And I restart the internet for you.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you,” Verify said. “Our servers are very well protected.”

“Well, that depends on who the mayor, the president, and the parliament sides with, doesn’t it?” Etho said, gaze flicking to Doc. “And we have _so_ much more control over Hermiton than you.”

“Really,” Verify said. “Does this change the fact that Hermiton Broadcasts will completely dominate the news media by informing the public of how dangerous the mafia is?” 

_How. Dare. They._

_No one_ insulted Doc’s organization, Doc’s business, Doc’s _control over everything._

 _This is the beginning of the end for you, ConCorp_. 

“Your little company,” Doc growled slowly, gratingly, “is no match for us. It is _you_ on _our_ territory, not the other way around. We own _far more_ of Hermiton’s private property.”

Etho gripped his hand under the table, squeezing so tightly Doc felt the beginnings of pain begin to spark. His advisor tugged insistently, the message clear.

_We’re leaving._

Doc whipped around with an incredulous look, but Etho’s eyes remain steadfastly resolute. He stood up, and tugged Doc with him to the door, though Doc still want _so, so badly to destroy-_

Verify’s lips quirked amusedly in a way that made Doc’s entire body erupt with scorching, thundering fury. It was only Etho’s tight, unrelenting grip that prevented him from rushing forward and demanding Verify _take it all back_ , or better yet, grip fingers tightly, chokingly around his neck and shocking him with electricity until he was charred, burnt crisp so he would **_stop talking-_ **

“Be warned,” Doc hurled instead, face twisting, words dripping with enough venom to fell entire armies. “ConCorp has made an enemy tonight, and the New Hermit Order will _never_ stand an insult. Prepare to have your company burned to ashes and swept into the Hermiatic Sea to be made a laughingstock of history, _Verify._ ”

Verify merely shrugged unconcernedly, and Etho slammed the door close before Doc could react with any sort of violence.

“ _What_ was that, Etho?” Doc hissed as they quickly made their way towards the door. A passing librarian gave them a disapproving look, making a shushing motion. Doc glared back as they rounded around the corner, his temper cooling ever so slightly with every moment Verify's smirk was no longer in sight.

“He was getting under your skin on _purpose_ ,” Etho said, glancing behind them, making sure the librarian - and everyone else in the library - was far enough away to not overhear. “Negotiations obviously weren’t getting anywhere, so we needed to leave.”

"I _was_ getting somewhere; you weren't patient enough,” Doc snapped. “I just needed to find the right words-"

"-your words were running out your mouth before they passed through your brain, Doc!" Etho snapped back.

Doc pressed his lips together into a thin, frustrated line, falling slightly behind Etho, refusing to look at anything but the shelves around them.

As they neared the entrance, Etho finally broke their tense silence. “You need to control yourself better. There’s information we’d rather they not figure out.”

Doc eyed all the surrounding bookshelves suspiciously, as though each novel could contain an explosive timed to blow as they passed, a tiny assassin tucked between every page.

_“We understand your information on us is rather… lacking.”_

The words still made him furiously alarmed, an idea Doc both didn’t want to think about, and couldn’t push out of his mind no matter how hard he tried, a nagging parasite that refused to die.

“We need to plan, Etho,” he hissed, relief flooding over him as they reached the glassy entrance of the library. “Call Beef and Bdubs when we get back. This is _war_.”

There was a hesitation in Etho’s eyes that made Doc frown, but his advisor nodded, and ushered him out of the library.

Out of neutral territory, into an area where anything, and anyone, could actually, _plausibly,_ be waiting to kill them.

Doc’s skin prickled, colder chills running down his back every second. His fingers crackled, electricity buzzing around, waiting for an outlet to unleash upon.

They got in the car, and quickly drove off without further incident.

* * *

“So, that went well,” Zloy said cheerfully. He motioned at a cotton candy stand nearby, a huge, fluffy blue cloud already covering half his face. “Want some?”

They had stopped in a nearby park after the meeting on their way back to headquarters, when Zloy saw the various snack stands that had popped up under the clear, sunny sky.

“No,” Cub said absentmindedly, reaching for his suit buttons. Then he remembered they had taken the suits off and left them in the car, leaving Cub to play with a shirt sleeve instead. “I mean - wait. No, to both. You think that went _well?”_

“I’d say so,” Zloy said, grin still standing. “I mean, he wasn’t ever going to agree to the terms, just as I suspected. This was bound to end in war regardless, why not get under his skin while we’re at it? It was _hilarious_ , by the way.”

“War is not funny, Zloy,” Cub sighed. “I need to sit down for a bit.”

The park they had retreated to after the meeting was, thankfully, full of benches and trees to shade them. Cub sat down on the nearest one, and buried his face into his hands.

“Cheer up, Cub!” Zloy said cheerfully. “Look on the bright side. Out of all the ways the meeting could have gone for us, this is one of the better outcomes! The mafia boss now thinks I’m the CEO and you’re some sort of bodyguard, _and_ we get confirmation that they own a large amount of land in Hermiton. Kinda unfortunate I never got the chance to stick that bug you developed somewhere in that stupid hair of his, though.”

When Cub didn’t reply, a voice chimed in from their hidden speakers, tucked into pockets on the front of their shirts. 

“To be fair, Cub _does_ make a better bodyguard,” Scar’s voice laughed. “Though yes, I agree with Zloy. There wasn’t much you could have done to have this not end in conflict, Cub. Hermiton’s leadership is too important to risk, especially with the elections coming up soon.”

“Zloy’s pretty decent at guarding,” Pixlriff argued from the speaker. “Plus, his power’s also very beneficial out on the field. It’s great to know what people are doing.”

“But Cub can literally-”

“Okay, let’s talk about more important things,” Zloy cut in. “Call up Cleo - we have a war to plan.”

 _A war to plan_.

It wasn’t like ConCorp had never gotten into disputes with other companies or organizations before, but it was the first time something so large-scale was being fought in home territory. ConCorp headquarters were less than 15 kilometers away from where Cub knew the NHO held theirs, the city hall, library, and courts all situated right in between.

“Time to go back, then,” Cub sighed, standing up. Zloy made a mournful noise, glancing at a nearby stand lined with shiny caramel apples. 

“Right, right,” he said, then muttering _“knew I shouldn’t have brought that up so quickly.”_

Pixlriffs’ laughter echoed.

“Careful you don’t rot your teeth, Zloy,” Scar giggled, and Cub could imagine the amused smile that was undoubtedly on both of them. It only made him feel more uneasy about the situation.

“There’s people who can fix that in an instant,” Zloy dismissed. But he stood up also, greatly reduced cotton candy cloud in hand. “But alright, _fine_. Time to go.”

As they walked back to the parking lot, Cub couldn’t help but feel a great sense of unease wash over him. Was that his logic and intuition telling him that war with the New Hermit Order would be a costly, potentially regretful affair?

He hoped not. For the sake of ConCorp, Hermiton, and even the NHO, Cub dearly, dearly hoped the entire thing would be settled quietly - and soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a larger AU planned by us, and sometime in the future we'll probably all contribute our own fics to this series.
> 
> Yes, there will be more uses of the superpowers (including fights), but as you may tell from reading this, this series will not be the hero vs. villain thing most superpower-aus have.
> 
> Let us know what you thought?


End file.
